Part 14 (1/2)
”Whoa, there!” came the voice of the burly man on the box. And then: ”Well, Jacques, what now? We're away from the castle, but where do we go?”
Mark swung to the ground. Glanced back to where the Chateau Morriere still loomed black and menacing on a distant ridge.
”Every road and bridge is blocked,” the other went on. ”The peasantry's none too peaceful in these parts, and the baron's taking no chances.”
Mark nodded slowly.
”What do you think, Baroc?” he asked. Somehow, he knew that was the man's name.
The burly one scowled.
”Paris, I suppose,” he grunted. ”If you once get there, and into the slums, the devil himself couldn't rout you out.”
”Do you think we can make it?”
”Maybe.” A shrug. ”We could try the post road.”
”All right. Let's go.”
They jogged on through the night, the coach swaying and b.u.mping over the rough track. Then lights began to sparkle ahead. Baroc pulled up.
”The Golden c.o.c.k Inn,” he grunted, nodding toward the lights.
”Morriere's guards will be there. We'll have to run for it, so be ready for rough going.”
The next instant they were rolling again. Closer the lights came, and closer. Now they were almost abreast them....
”Halt!”
A man was running toward them, waving his arms.
Baroc shattered the night with a fearful oath. His long whip cracked over the backs of the double-span of greys ahead. The horses leaped forward.
They were past the inn, driving h.e.l.lbent through the pitch-blackness of the countryside. But behind them was a tumult of shouts, a wild disorder.
Mark shot a glance through the window. Caught a glimpse of running figures.
”Jacques! Are they after us?” There was panic in Elaine's voice.
A clatter of hooves answered her before Mark could open his mouth. The girl clung to him, her face chalky with fear.
”If the baron catches me again, Jacques--”
”He won't catch you! I promise it, Elaine! He won't!”
But the words of Adrian Vance leaped into his brain like red-hot branding irons:
_Elaine Duchard was tortured and murdered by Baron Morriere's retainers!_